


Portal

by schifanoia



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:35:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25691428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schifanoia/pseuds/schifanoia
Summary: There's a passage to Hell forming; John needs some particular help closing it.
Relationships: Charlie & John Constantine, John Constantine & Team Legends, John Constantine/Ray Palmer
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Portal

**Author's Note:**

> CW for some vague discussions of nonconsensual sex (not involving main characters)

It’s late afternoon and Gideon’s alarm bells have been blaring for a solid minute. As she observes the Legends sleepily assembling, the AI huffs to herself: she’d prefer the team to be a little quicker on their feet in an emergency. She’s going to have to set up surprise drills again, haul them up out of bed when they least expect. This pleases her to imagine. “Good morning, Captain Lance.” Sara’s finally appeared, rubbing her eyes. “I get it, Gideon, good afternoon. What’s going on?”

Now that they’re mostly present and reasonably conscious, Gideon reluctantly turns off the klaxons. She’d been thinking too much about how to pester the Legends into appearing promptly when she calls, and not enough about how to tactfully explain the current problem. “There appears to be a portal growing in London, 1932. If left unaddressed, it will grow to consume the city and form a permanent doorway to hell.” “Can’t have that,” Sara announces before Gideon can continue. “Alright, Legends: time to suit up and slam that door in some demons’ faces. What’s the plan?” Mick raises his gun hopefully; Nate pulls him back before Ava can see it and derail them all with a lecture about not going in guns (literally) blazing. They’re derailed anyway, almost immediately, by an argument about whose turn it was to wash the era-appropriate attire last. Nate elbows Rory silently, proud of himself for preventing an argument that would’ve probably left someone with burn scars.

“Captain? Pardon me,” interrupts Gideon crisply, “but this portal is unlike any we’ve encountered before, and my readings indicate that attacking it with conventional weaponry would simply cause it to expand. It was created by… unconventional means.” She pulls an image up onscreen for them.

“Unconventional how?” asks Ava impatiently. She can’t establish proper action protocols without more information, and she doesn’t like it when Gideon starts acting squirrelly. Gideon demurs, “Perhaps Mr. Constantine can explain. The creation of the portal would appear to fall within his areas of expertise.”

Constantine’s been looking at the portal since he arrived, late, on the bridge. The others turn to him, waiting for his usual explanation and request for various arcane objects and/or bodily substances to use in his casting. He opens his mouth, closes it, begins patting his pockets distractedly in search of the cigarette that’s already dangling from the corner of his lip. He sits down, stands again. “Aye, I’ve seen summat like this before, alright, and I know what needs to be done.” Ray, watching closely, cocks his head and thinks: he’s never seen Constantine so reluctant to speak. Maybe even cool people can get stage fright! He grins happily, pleased to have figured it out.

Sara finally notices Constantine’s hesitation, and barks “Well? Spit it out man, what’s the issue? Another magical artifact treasure hunt in store? Did a past or future version of ourselves do this?” Everyone starts chiming in, talking over each other.

“Is it tethered to a magical creature that we have to save?”

“Will closing it turn us into puppets forever?”

“Is this going to involve ABBA in any way.”

“Does Ray have to fall in love with another demon to close it?” “Nora’s not a demon, B, shut up!” “Sorry bro, sorry” – the boys hug; Charlie rolls her eyes.

“Seriously man, what is it? Cat got your tongue?” Charlie is watching John fidget, thinking how unlike him it is - until he looks up, drags on his cigarette, and grins: “You lot feeling up for an orgy, then?”

He winks directly at Nate, who takes an involuntary step back, then nearly falls as he overcorrects: Constantine can almost see Nate’s thoughts in real-time, worrying that he looks uptight and not like the ultimate down-for-anything guy he hopes to be perceived as. The rest of the crew is immediately in disarray, arguing and planning (Behrad has already sloped off to get his condoms and whatever else he thinks might be amusing) until Constantine claps once and they all snap to attention. He learned that trick from Sara, and it always amuses him when it works. Pavlovian response or summat, he reckons.

Glancing them over, he takes quick stock of their faces – some intrigued, some apparently resigned – “Alright now, loves, settle down. I were only having a laugh.” Ava, always prepared for all possible situations, had been about to explain her seven-point plan for the most efficient possible orgy, accounting for all known sexual preferences and long-simmering tensions before she catches Sara’s sly look and backs down, realizing what she had just been about to propose. Sara pulls her back and stage whispers, “We know you’ve always got a plan locked and loaded, baby, but you better believe I’ll need to hear about this one later.”

Eyes back on Constantine, he explains. The energy powering this portal is magical, a side effect from the apparently unpleasant sexual activities of one Alistair Crowley: famed 18th century magician and pervert —and, apparently, someone Constantine’s a little pissed off at or something– Rory’s barely been listening, but he gets the gist. The portal is an unintended side effect: the negative energy powering it is the runoff from a combination of Crowley’s carelessness with both the magical arts and his partners, whose pleasure he couldn’t care less about. Constantine’s frowning, explaining how Crowley’s famous for both his magical skill and sexual appetite, but according to John he didn’t practice either one safely or consensually.

“Consent is sexy,” Rory growls, suddenly angry —both about Crowley and because he doesn’t like to agree with anyone, let alone Constantine. Ava grins and nudges Behrad, “See? _This_ is why the ladies love Rebecca Silver!” B looks quizzical, not quite grasping the connection between the famed romance author and Mick sounding like an early 2000s liberal arts major. He’ll figure it out later, he thinks, when he’s not so stoned.

Ray is nodding in enthusiastic agreement with Rory, excited to tell the crew about the sex-positive books and learning materials that he has available in the lab. He also has a binder full of helpful tips for navigating workplace romance power dynamics, but no one ever wants to come to his “How to Identify and Address Unexpressed Feelings with Minimal Harm and Maximum Fun!” workshops.

“The point is,” Constantine’s saying, “the portal’s powered by his-” “Bad dick energy?” grins Charlie. “Well, basically yes, actually. And I know how to shut it down.”

What it all boils down to: sex magic, obviously. But it has to be the good kind, to counteract Crowley’s energy – “So, like, making love?” asks Nate, so genuine and hopeful that Sara’s heart could almost break. She knows how much he’s been through, and how he’s been feeling that something’s missing in his life. But still, gross. Her face scrunches a little involuntarily.

Constantine squints: Nate’s earnestness is painful. “I don’t know about all that, mate. Love’s not the ingredient we’re needing, leastways not the romantic kind. For this to work, we just need… a good working relationship - mutual understanding, like.” “Teamwork!” Sara shouts, and he grins. “That’s right love, and you’re one to know, eh? -Begging your pardon of course, Ava darlin’.” Ava’s brain is whirring, trying to game outcomes, figure out the odds that her and Sara’s relationship can handle whatever… this is, whatever it entails. She grips Sara’s hand tighter, and Sara squeezes back.

Constantine had anticipated this and knows Ava needn’t worry - he’s already got his plan. “We do need a team, but I was only messing with you lot. The spell doesn’t call for a proper orgy. –Three is a strong magic number, y’know, so I’ll just be needing the two volunteers. We’ll be forming a,” Nate interjects: “-a sexual Voltron?! Finally! I knew if I waited long enough, one day-” before being shushed. Constantine continues, “-a V-shape, with me as anchor point. So’s all we’ll be needing are two lovely volunteers willing to step on up and let this soulless deviant show them a good time.”

Almost before he finishes speaking, a grinning Charlie steps up with a wink and her most cartoonish Cockney: “Oi! Pick me, guv – spare a crumb of sex magic for a poor magical creature that’s been too long without?” Constantine claps her on the shoulder, pleased. He’d suspected she’d be on board. “Ah, course there’s always room for a wild’un like you, love. We were counting on you, sure enough.” He’d run through the list before this conversation, not sure yet who the third would be. The spell would only work so long as they’d all freely chosen to be there. It didn’t care about sexual attraction between the caster and his subjects, only that they had some kind of prior bond. Attraction didn’t hurt, though, and John knows who he’d personally prefer. He lights another cigarette and watches the rest hem and haw. Mick’s already left the room.

Finally, a hand goes up, and the rest turn, surprised. Constantine lets a small sly smile escape – sometimes wishes do come true. “In, in, both the spirit of scientific inquiry, but more importantly, teamwork, I, I volunteer. As tribute. For the. …orgy. Or, whatever.” stutters a pale, nervous Ray. Nate is looking worried, so Constantine hurries this up before Nate can attempt to complete Ray’s Hunger Games reference by offering himself up in Ray’s place. “Our man Rage! All right then, dreamboat, that’s set it then. And not to worry,” -he’s grinning, and can’t resist- “I don’t bite, not unless you want me to.”

*

Ray’s packing his overnight bag in the lab with the bro squad. The trip’s not meant to take more than an afternoon, but with the Legends he finds it’s best to be prepared. Behrad is being more than usually chill, trying to even out Nate’s anxious energy. “Bro, it’s just… I want to make sure this is really okay with you. I’m totally ready to jump in if this feels like too much. It’s totally fine! And-” Behrad cuts in gently, “Who are you jealous of here, bud? Ray, or Constantine? No secrets between bros, you know.”

Nate stops, rambles, “It’s not that! I only _wish_ I was attracted to men and could thereby form the most ultimate bonds of loving friendship! I’d be like Tolkien in the trenches, Samwise and Frodo, Kirk and Spock! Believe me, man, I’ve tried! I’m just really worried about Ray. Constantine’s rough, and honestly he can be, like, kind of mean?” B grins at him, says “I would’ve volunteered if Ray hadn’t been so quick to throw his hat in the ring. Under all that stale cigarette smoke and booze, that man is hot. And he’s been around the block before.” Nate shakes his head, laughing, and gets Behrad to pass him the joint.

Ray just packs, listening to their easy chatter. He volunteered and he’s not changing his mind. It’s not even the first time he’d thought about something like this, if he’s being honest with himself, which he always is. He knows that Nate thinks of him as practically a virgin, but he’s been engaged multiple times! How come everyone always forgets?

Constantine’s not even the first man he’s been attracted to (those knights of the round table were really something, and if they’d just had more time…). He just, well. He’s just never thought Constantine would be interested in someone like him. He knows John thinks of himself as a dangerous man, but Ray’s seen enough truly bad people to know better. The man literally dragged him out of hell and wouldn’t accept a word of thanks. He’s also seen John in moments when he thinks no one’s watching. Ray’s found him in the med bay late at night, silently keeping company with an unconscious teammate more times than he can count. They don’t speak much, those nights, but each do their part: John muttering incantations while Ray checks vitals and administers more conventional medicine. They work well together.

And maybe this is the only way something could actually happen: as lab partners, doing basically a science experiment. And that’s fine. That can be fine. Ray’s so good at science partly because he loves following rules. Set the parameters, establish boundaries, communicate, take precautions. He’s seen Constantine collect ingredients, do research, prepare his materials. Science and magic aren’t that different in practice, not really. And this spell: it’s teamwork mostly, like Sara said, and Ray also loves teamwork. And getting to do John – do _an experiment_ with John, he corrects himself immediately, would be the best of both worlds.

He chuckles, and the boys look up from whatever stoned conversation they were having. Behrad clocks it immediately: “Wait, do you… you do like him! This isn’t just in the spirit of scientific inquiry! You have a crush!” Nate grins too, “Ray-Ray, you really like him? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell US?” He knocks Behrad in the chest as he gestures emphatically between them: Nate’s playing fake-hurt, but clearly also really is a little hurt, but then Ray can see it turn right back into delight. He’s never met someone who shows all his feelings as openly as Nate, just right there on his face at all times. Maybe that’s why they’re get along so well. Ray’s always had trouble reading people — he doesn’t clock intentions or subtleties very easily, but with someone like Nate he never has to worry. – Nate never says one thing when he means another, and he wears every emotion on his sleeve. He’s the best friend Ray’s ever had.

*

Charlie and Mick are sitting in the common area, slugging terrible room temperature beer. Behrad had sauntered by earlier, offering to get them something cold from the fridge, but Mick had just grunted. Charlie shrugged apologetically and waved him off. He should be with his boys tonight anyway, helping Ray prepare – or more likely, talking down Nate’s anxiety. She leans back on her elbows, takes another sip. She hears a grumble that she’s come to realize is the sound of Mick preparing to speak and looks over at him. “The Englishman,” he says. She waits. She waits for kind of a while.

“Is there more to that sentence then, or?” He shakes himself like a horse flicking off flies, chugs the rest of his beer. “Don’t like him. For you. Too old.” She can’t help but smile – for Mick, this is quite the elegant speech. He cares about her, is worried about this. “Oi, look at you, Mick! You been attending Ray’s Feelings Seminars? Good on you. But you know I’m older than all of you lot by a couple of centuries, yeah? Me and Jonno, we’ll have a laugh and close the portal. We get along but there’s naught more to it than that.”

Mick grunts again, gets them both another bottle. “The Kid, then?” “You asking if I like B? I don’t know about all that, mate. He’s a good bloke.” The Kid, Haircut, Pretty… All these nicknames: Mick’s a secret softie, Charlie thinks, a lot like Constantine when it came right down to it. All tough-guy bluster covering that embarrassingly big heart. She loves them both for it. After this beer, she’s going to go get ready for tomorrow. It feels like ages since she’s been allowed to have some proper fun, and she’s planning to enjoy herself very much.

*

Meanwhile, Constantine is sitting in his quarters working his way through a bottle of replicated Scotch, thinking: them Star Trek buggers was right, replicated booze’s just not as good as the real stuff. He’s going over his plan. Closing a portal created by sex magic and bodily substances requires the use of those same substances, but gathered differently: not through fear or pain, but by cooperation, joy and -he hates to even think it, but- love. He’s not afraid of love normally, but his mind’s been skittering away from the idea of it since they got news of the portal. He’s lost so many good people; it’s not right to keep endangering them that love him. The ritual is straightforward, intuitive even, so long as there’s no interruptions. He thinks he’s got it set, though: failsafes and protections galore. Hopefully no need to sing about the power of love this time. Not on his watch.

He cares for these people, this crew, and if the spell didn’t require some form of bond already in place he would’ve just picked up a bit of strange at the bar and solved the problem, quick as you like. Now he’s got these two to worry about. Not that they can’t hold their own in a fight, but this is putting their souls at stake and he’s not sure the crew were listening when he went over that part.

Sara was, though, and proves it when she shows up at his door. She’s leaning against the frame, a bottle of real Scotch whiskey in hand. “Lot on your mind, there? Or is a raging hangover necessary for the enchantment?” He wonders how she does it, holding her crew’s life in her hand every day. It’s a heavy task that she wears lightly, and he admires the hell out of her for it. There’s a reason he tells himself he prefers to fly solo – he can treat himself as poorly as he likes, but he’d never do that to anyone else. Far safer to keep those that’d care for him at arm’s length and not muck around in their lives. It’s only ever ended badly for him, that.

“Come to join me, love? Ava know you’re here?” “Ava trusts me. And she’s worried about you, too. You done this spell before? You seem… less sure of yourself than usual.” “Aye, I’ve done it before and it were a blast. The right people, the right mojo, it can change the world. All that energy, it can open passages, transcend time and space, show you some beautiful things.”

“Sounds pretty good for a roll in the hay. What’s different now?” He thinks. He’s never had to close one of these before, only opened them – and it weren’t a portal to hell when he’d done it. This one’s all wrong. It’s that bastard Crowley, really – that man’s taken what he liked from different arcane practices and ignored what didn’t suit him, with no regard for consequences. He’s not after magic; got no real respect for the occult. He’s just after power. The sex is part of the same problem: that man moves through the world with no care for anyone but himself. Combining those two, violent magic and violent sex, is a recipe for disaster.

And now hell is feeding on that energy, using it to thin the borders between this world. He explains it gruffly to Sara. There’s the portal and all its attendant troubles, but she also sees his worries about the team, that he’s terrified of hurting them somehow. As he talks through it, he sees her understanding grow, and he remembers: she knows what it’s like to be put to evil use; to have good intentions twisted into evil deeds; to try to save a loved one and fail. They each of them understand the other right down to the core. She gets his cautiousness now. 

She drains her whiskey, puts down the glass. She shakes her head a little, looks at him. “You’re the right man for the job. If you pass that Crowley on the way in, I hope you kick him in the nuts for me.” “Least I could do,” he grunts, but grins sideways at her. “Sure you don’t want to come along? Sub in for our sweet gentle boy?” He bats his eyes at her. Sara sits back, more serious than he expected, chewing her lip. “Ray’s a grownup and can handle himself. And Charlie’s tough as anything, but she’s been through so much already. They deserve a little fun. Be good to them, John. Do what needs to be done and bring all of you back safe.” “Told you, love, nothing about this works if they don’t want it. They change their minds about any part of this, we find something else, some other way. They’ll be safe as houses, pet.” He’s trying to reassure both of them. She looks at him appraisingly, remembering. “I’d say they’re in for a treat, then,” she says, and pours them both another.

More than a few drinks later, he’s mentioned Ray one too many times, and Sara is giggling. “Ray, though? I couldn’t tell if the way he keeps collecting all your cigarette butts is out of a deep concern for fire safety or for some creepy little shrine. Either way, he’s follows you around like a puppy. You know he adds Vitamin C packs to your whiskey when you’re not looking? Never thought you’d like someone like that. You’re always going on and on about how you’re such a bad man and no one’s safe with you.” She does a quick, uncanny impression of John, smoking an imaginary cigarette and scowling. “Thought you’d say he’s too delicate for something as messy as this. Messy as you.” She arches a brow over her glass.

Constantine ruffles his hair, more than a little embarrassed that he’s thought about this before. What it’d be like, with Ray. “The man’s a do-gooder, like yourself,” he says, just to make her mad. She doesn’t take the bait though, waits him out. “Right moral, he is. Good to look at, too. Don’t matter though – this spell isn’t about me. Not the time to worry about what I want.” Sara’s trying to hold in her smile, and he knows this is all going straight to Ava when she leaves his quarters.

She gets up, grinning now. “Maybe there’s room for something you want in there too. Maybe not for this spell, but after. Think about it. You deserve something good. Someone good.” “Alright now, that’s enough of that. Mushy time’s over. Off to Ava with you now for the girly-talk” She points loosely at him (she’s clearly seeing double, her aim somewhere slightly left of him), and puts on her captain voice. “You’re coming to book club next time, and that’s an order. Drink some wine and talk about your feeee-lings. You know you want to.” He grumbles and settles deeper into his chair, waving her off. She can’t see it, but he’s smiling into his glass. He sits up late, thinking.

*

Day of, Constantine’s sitting on the jumpship, feet up on the console. The other two are on the bridge, saying their goodbyes. Charlie’s having a smoke with Behrad as they all watch Nate practically pat Ray down, nervously making sure all bases have been covered. Ray packed his own bag, but Nate’s got another tote bag full of who knows what, bits and bobs he’s sure Ray might need. “Is that, did you pack me my microscope? I don’t… I don’t think I’m going to need that, today. And also it should be in its own traveling case. But thank you!” Ray beams. “Are these… energy bars?” “You’ll need to keep your strength up!” Ava pulls Nate away before he can start fussing with Ray’s hair.

Sara’s shouting. “Alright Legends, listen up! Wicked old Constantine’s taking our sweetest, most innocent angels to get their jollies in jolly old England. Please place any bets about potential outcomes with Gideon _after_ their departure.” She salutes them both, trying and failing to keep a straight face. Charlie audibly cracks her neck and knuckles, bows to the crew with a little flourish that ends with her giving them all the finger with each hand, and flounces on board the jumpship. Ray picks up his bags, waves an embarrassed goodbye, and walks a little too quickly onto the smaller ship.

*

It’s a quick jump to 1932 London, where they disembark by an abandoned building near Crowley’s current lodgings. Inside, the building is hollowed out, a huge empty shell. The portal is there, relatively small: it’s early yet. It glows sickly green, an ever-thinning membrane between worlds.

“Alright now, loves. No need to pay attention to that over there. Whole point of today is you lot: your job is to sit back, relax, and get off. Got that?” He just needs some time to get everything set up proper for them. Shooing them back into the ship, he sets out to create the first protective circle. He takes his shoes off and stands barefoot in the eerie space, centering himself.

*

On the ship, Charlie looks over at Ray, whose foot is nervously tapping out an uneven rhythm. “Right then mate, you still up for this? You were dead silent the whole ride over. It’s okay, you know, if you changed your mind.” She’s smiling, gentler than normal – she’s right fond of Ray. He’s the reason she’s riding with the Legends in the first place. He looks at her, and she wonders how it is that such a big man can take up so little space. Another thing she likes about him. He’s looking at his hands, thinking. He looks up and that familiar smile is back, along with some of his usual good cheer.

“I’ve just been assessing. It’s important to check in with your feelings before any potential sexual encounters! Which you would know if you had attended any of my ‘Safer Sex for Time Travelers’ seminars. How are you so calm? Have, have you and Constantine done this before? Already know the ins and outs of the -I mean, not the ins and outs but the-, the-” His eyes widen, panicking that he’s overstepped, and she stops him before he short-circuits. “Mate, is that what this is? You’re nervous me and John been sneakin it in on the off hours?” “No, no, whatever two consenting adults choose to do on their own time is none of my business. I just-”

She stands, puts her hand on his shoulder, then changes her mind and cups his cheek. “That old bugger and me are friends, and we understand each other. That’s all. If you’ve got eyes for that ashtray of a man, he’s all yours. You got that?” Ray looks down at her, his brain clearly running a million miles an hour. She pulls his head down to hers, bumps foreheads with him. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, old son. I saw his face when you volunteered, he was right pleased. Let yourself have this today, mate.” Ray smiles, visibly swallows, and straightens. Charlie pats his cheek lightly. “You been down this road with a bloke yet, mate? I’ve been a lot of people, you know. Had a lot of different bodies. Banged a lot of ‘em too. If you got questions, I bet I got answers.”

Ray’s smiling now – still nervous, but getting back to normal, looking like he does in the lab: eager to get started, ready to tackle a problem. “I assure you, I’ve actually done quite a lot of, um, research on the subject, even before this portal popped up. I am a scientist, after all. I’ve got a pretty good working knowledge of the human body.” Charlie likes this – he’s looser now, back in his element.

Outside, Constantine finds himself setting his enchantments slowly. He’s got his backup plan ready, pulled Behrad aside this morning and went over the details just in case someone changes their mind. He wants to make sure everyone has an out if they need.

He’s done plenty of thinking how to make things easiest for them, but now it’s coming time and he’s feeling nervous for himself– first time jitters somehow, although there’s basically nothing left on god’s green earth two or more humans can do together that John hasn’t yet tried, and no complaints so far. He laughs, steadying himself. He closes the first protective circle – a line each of salt, ash, and graveyard dirt — then starts work on the second, smaller circle that will house their -he hears Nate’s voice in his head- lovemaking. Ugh. Protections within protections though: everything he can do to keep them safe. He walks the smaller circle, speaking words of care and strength.

When all is ready, he steels himself and walks back onboard the ship. The feeling is different from the ride over; more relaxed. He shoots a grateful look at Charlie; she waggles her tongue at him. “Alright love, it’s time. You good to go first, then?” He’s hoping she’ll set the proper tone: a certain lightness, and a messy, right good time all around. She makes a filthy gesture, high fives Ray and leaves the ship.

Constantine looks at Ray. “You set to wait here then, pet? Got something good to occupy your time?” He waggles his eyebrows saucily, but the charmingly oblivious Ray simply holds up a gigantic book and grins. “Nate packed me my favorite physics textbook! Any time is a good time to bone up on the essentials!” Constantine shakes his head. The man simply misses even the most obvious opportunities to make a joke. Bone up indeed.

Hands in his pockets, John looks him over. How this man, dressed in a hideous t-shirt that just says “Science!” (a joke gift from Behrad, who never expected Ray would actually wear it), can rile him up so badly is beyond him right now. He’d like to, he doesn’t know, touch Ray somehow before he goes. He wishes he had Charlie’s easy way with people, but John’s never been good with that, so he defaults to keeping his hands to himself. He’s thinking back to all those times he’s found himself under Ray’s care in the med bay, and the ways he knows Ray’s strong but careful touch. Always taking care of him, Ray is. He’s looking forward to paying that back in spades. Ray looks up. “Something you need, John? Energy bar?” Constantine laughs, shakes his head. He’ll be back soon enough.

*

Charlie’s leaning against the ship outside, waiting. When John emerges, her eyes are twinkling. “Promising your sweetheart you’ll be back soon?” Constantine puts out his cigarette and decides to ignore this. Plenty of time for her to poke fun at him later. “You remember everything we talked about, pet? It’s coming time for you to put me through my paces, if this is going to work.” She’s more than ready; been practically vibrating with energy since he brought the plan to the team yesterday. He gestures to the second circle and she steps through, finding herself abruptly in a comfortable, if sparsely furnished bedroom. Constantine follows behind, eyes going black and mystic fire sparking from his hands as he closes the circle.

He turns back to her. He’s feeling in his element again, ready to get down to business with a partner he’ll work well with. Sex magic gets a bad rap from buggers like Crowley, but John knows it inside and out: two people can generate pure power together, and the dynamics of that action affect the power – with a good team, the power created is restorative, transcendental. People joke about having sex so good they see god; they’re not far off. But a power imbalance, or the intent to do harm, can create… exactly the problem they’re here to fix. A hole, seeping a malign nothingness into the universe – an easy way for something even worse to get through. He chuckles, knowing there’s a joke in there somewhere about holes what need filling. The ingredients for this spell are also a hell of a lot more pleasant to collect than his usual – much different from blood and guts that would generally prefer to remain within their bodies of origin. Nasty means to unpleasant ends: He’s more often opening a portal to hell than closing one, and it’s never enjoyable or easy. Closing one is a whole other bag of tricks, but he’s got a feeling that with this team, he could probably channel enough power to tear through to a sister universe.

John shakes himself once, like a dog. He’s ready. As the anchor for this spell, his own pleasure is technically irrelevant: to negate the portal, his only job is to be a tool, magnifying and conducting the energy of his partners. But he’d be a liar if he said it wouldn’t be damn fun. He likes a bit of everything, he does, but there’s something particularly enjoyable about giving without the need or expectation of anything in return.

He shucks off his coat, rolls up his sleeves. Time to get to work.

*

Ray’s been happily making notes in the margins of his textbook: he’s planning to submit a revised edition next time the Legends find themselves back in the present day. Plus, working on a project like this gives him space to let his mind wander a little, lets him poke around at ideas that he might not be able to address head-on otherwise. He’s thinking back to John’s first days aboard the ship, when he first called Ray a dreamboat. He thinks about that moment a lot.

He’s pretty sure John had been making fun of him, then (it’s taken nearly his whole adult life, but he can almost always clock that now. Being teammates with Mick really helps: Ray’s found that Mick’s always ready to explain in great detail exactly what he means whenever Ray mistakes an insult for a compliment) but Ray’s carefully analyzed their interactions since: statistically, John holds his gaze longer than any of the other Legends, and sometimes is even looking at him when there’s no need for it. And Ray’s been looking right back.

He’s been wanting to reach out and touch Constantine more, too, and has perhaps been overly cautious: he’s learned his lesson from Mick and Sara that surprise hugs are not always welcomed things. Some of the Legends are prickly. Whenever Constantine’s wound up in the med bay (which is often) Ray’s always used his most careful, clinical touch. Although… precisely one time only he allowed himself to smooth down a bit of John’s hair as he slept, and he’s thought about it every day since. He’s trying to keep his expectations for this spell reasonable, but he’s very much hoping that it won’t be more of the same distant professionalism when it’s his turn with John.

*

Times passes: quickly for Ray, far slower for the two in the second magic circle. Eventually they emerge from the makeshift room; Charlie heading back to the ship, and John moving to stand in front of the portal. Charlie turns back, stealing a last look. John looks wild and powerful, almost holy. She’s seen him use a lot of things in his magical practices: watched him chug the spit of a damned man, seen piss and blood and guts imbibed or smeared in the service of his casting, but never something like this.

His hands and face are glistening with… her, and he’s practically glowing. Actually, he _is_ glowing. He’s dragging wet fingers across his cheekbones, painting himself and chanting in what sounds like ancient Greek. The portal is dimming in direct proportion to his internal shine. When he’s done, it’s just a faint shimmer in the air. Almost closed.

She’s feeling incredible: sated, wrung out but whole. Like she’s been turned inside out and put right again. How long since the last time she felt this energized? Decades, maybe. She’s going to sleep for about fifteen hours, then write an album. Maybe two, if this feeling lasts.

*

Ray doesn’t even hear Charlie reenter the ship until she taps him on the shoulder on her way to the back. She looks fantastic, he thinks: the cat who ate the canary, the fox in the henhouse. He’s wondering if there’s even any John left, or if she devoured him whole. She’s a magical creature, after all. Before he can lose himself in that thought, Constantine pokes his head in and says, “you’re up, squire.” Ray jumps up. “Actually, funny thing! I’m technically a Knight, not a squire. Charlie, you missed this, but back in King Arthur times, I was-” “All right, _Sir_ Raymond. It were only a term of endearment, sweetness. Are you ready to go, then?” Charlie smiles lazily, pats Ray on the ass as she passes. “Right then, mates. Ring the alarm if you need, but I’ll be in my bunk.”

Suddenly it’s just them. Ray is still processing “term of endearment” and “sweetness,” and possible larger meanings. Constantine’s standing in the doorway, hands in his pockets. He’s a rumpled mess, and it looks good on him. Ray is sweating, maybe. “Come then, pet. It’s time. Unless?” He pauses, giving Ray an out. He shakes his head, and John holds out a hand to him. An offering.

Ray takes it, and that simple act blots out all his racing thoughts and worries. They step off the ship and John doesn’t let go until they’re through into the makeshift bedroom. He closes the circle, turns back to Ray. Ray’s seen John in action before, but this is different. John’s _looking_ at him, eyes dark with intent. He’s barefoot, shirt misbuttoned, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. Desire’s rolling off him in waves. He grins ferociously up at Ray, whose thin veneer of calm is instantly shattered.

*

Charlie’s sitting with her legs dangling from the entrance of the jumpship, having a beer and waiting. She knows times passes differently in that space, but she’s thinking they’ll be emerging soon, and she wants to see what exactly that’s going to look like. She’s got a bet going with Behrad about something.

When the circle finally opens again, it’s so bright that for a moment she can only see their outlines. But when her eyes adjust, she can see exactly what she was looking for: they’re holding hands. B owes her twenty bucks.


End file.
